


la felicità della morte

by Aubrie1234



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Harrington, Dyslexic Steve Harrington, F/M, Hallucinations, I hope I'm tagging this right, Internalized Homophobia, Italian-American Steve Harrington, Jewish Steve Harrington, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Harrington-centric, Steve doesn't know how to deal with his PTSD, Steve just loves everyone and deals with it the same way as his PTSD: Not Well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27063952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aubrie1234/pseuds/Aubrie1234
Summary: Steve wants to be normal, but he's not and he hates it and so tries to figure out how to cope when he's never had to before.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	la felicità della morte

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what this thing is except that I made it and I'm sorry that it switches so much between Past- and Present-Tense but that's how it came to me. It's also my first Stranger Things fic and I wanna write more but I have too many ideas in my head. Originally it was supposed to be a self-destructive fic and I don't know if it's become that but it definitely feels like *something*.
> 
> Headcanons: Jewish and Italian-American Steve because I like that for him and there are many I've read like that and both of them just seem to *fit* Steve, y'know?
> 
> Also, not sure if there should be any warnings, but read at your own risk. If there are, I don't think they're strong ones.

Steve’s not sure when it started. Maybe before the Upside Down showed itself. Maybe before he entered high school. Steve always knew he was fucked up in some way, even before his father started calling him an idiot when he did so poorly in elementary school. He couldn’t keep up with the words, moving around the page like they owned the place. His teachers wanted him tested. His father said no, that Steve was just an idiot. And he believed that. But that wasn’t the issue right now.

He had no coping mechanisms. If things got heated, he’d run. If he was being degraded, he’d stand and take it. If he got angry, he’d take it out on everyone. He just didn’t cope with things. He didn’t wanna lose Nancy and tried to get her back, only to fight off an interdimensional monster. And trying to deal with _that_ was not something he could do. Nightmares every night, sometimes when he was awake, a nailed bat always by his side. He knew there was a way to deal with this, but he’d never been taught. So how could he deal with it and become a functioning human being again?

He _couldn’t_.

* * *

_Flowery maws, opening, gaping, threatening to swallow him whole-_

“Hey, Harrington! You still paying attention?”

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

_Runrunrun and save the kids-_

“Harrington!” Hand tight on his shoulder, grounding almost, “Something wrong?” Steve glared and shrugged off Billy’s hand. Billy didn’t care. He just wanted a good practice. Steve pushed past, silent.

_Everywhere everywhere everywhere dogsdogsdogs with flower faces and fire and screaming-_

Steve went to the locker room and slammed the door shut.

* * *

_Beating it back again, back again, bat slick with black blood-_

_Nancy screaming, Jonathan’s hands filled with fire-_

_Roaring bloody flowers too big for the ground-_

_Clang of a trap snapping and a hallway in flames-_

_Eyeless sockets, red hair, glasses, bloodied grin-_

If Steve woke up screaming in the night, nobody knew.

If Steve contemplated drowning in his empty pool, nobody knew.

If Steve refused to sleep to keep away the monsters but only made things worse, nobody knew.

* * *

He knows the kids know something’s up. It’s like they’re bloodhounds for trouble and he _really_ doesn’t want trouble now. They have the sense not to ask while he takes them to the mall or arcade or wherever. He’s thankful for that. But he knows they’re looking for all the signs that something’s wrong and they’re ready to tell someone and Steve _doesn’t want Hopper on his ass thank you very much_. So he has to tell them _something_.

“Can’t sleep well.” he tells them before they ask, before they struggle to keep their mouths shut because they’re worried about him. Steve’s pretty sure El’s tried to probe his mind once or twice to see what was wrong but it must be a madhouse in there because he sees her wincing sometimes when she thinks he isn’t looking. They still don’t believe the valid reason or they just worry too much. Could be either for all Steve knows. But their attention won’t be on him today.

“Remember, any of you go off, _stick together_.” he stressed, standing with the kids outside the Indianapolis Zoo, wishing he’d bought some rope so they wouldn’t wander off because _of course they would_.

“You worry too much.” says Mike, and Steve tries not to agree. But eventually they go along with his buddy plan and at least he feels better about taking them here. It had actually been Hopper’s idea to give them a treat after all the shit they’ve been through lately but since he couldn’t come, he made Steve go instead. Here, there were no nightmares to see, only animals, but Steve couldn’t help feeling watched and worried.

He’s walking with Mike and El when he sees it. It’s big, pale, and he _swears_ the maw looks like a flower and he can feel his heart rate jump.

 _Demogorgon._ he thinks, because that’s all he ever thinks about anymore. It gets closer and closer and Steve’s itching for a bat-

“Aw!” El presses her face against the glass, looking at the _bear_ on the other side, and Steve has to turn away before he wrings the animal’s neck.

_Did thinking about murder always seem so simple before?_

* * *

The scar on his hairline itches as he remembers the claws of a demodog and crash of a plate. A bad night but a good one too. They’d closed the gate and he’d bonded with the kids. But having demodogs after you repeatedly, seeing the anger in Billy’s eyes as he tried to kill him, Steve doesn’t think it was worth it. At least the bully had the sense to apologize, though, even if it _was_ at the Snow Ball.

“Look, Harrington, I’m sorry for beating you up. Don’t think you’ll get my charity again. If you’d been in my shoes, you would understand.” And that had been that. Billy was still mean and terrible and downright evil (in Steve’s opinion) but he’d mellowed out and wasn’t as pushy or angry anymore. Steve hoped Max had talked some sense into him, as Steve was sure it was her fault that Billy had apologized. It was also her fault that Billy had beat him up and her fault that Billy finally left before he killed him, but Steve wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. And having Billy not so angry at him anymore was immensely good, as Steve would see shadows of demodogs everywhere throughout the day and if he had to deal with Billy while fleeing to the bathroom for a panic attack one more time he was going to go home and skip school for the rest of the month.

He’s walking through the hall, towards the parking lot, when he sees them again. Suddenly the hall looks like the tunnels and he can hear claws scraping on the ground behind him and before he can convince himself it’s _just an illusion_ he’s running. _Runrunrun don’t stop don’t stop-_ He doesn’t even see who he plows into because his eyes are blinded by his fear.

“Fuck, Harrington!” Strong hands grip his biceps and he wants to push them off but the sudden stop has him seeing clear again and he’s being held up by Billy. Anger quickly flowed into concern as Billy asked, “You look pale. You okay?”

“Peachy.” said Steve and he wrangles himself out of Billy’s grip and moves down the hallway, slower so as not to make Billy think something’s going on, and that’s when Steve notices it. No more claws, no chirps, no tunnel-vision, he’s back to seeing the hallway with no demodogs on his heels. He glances back and finds Billy still standing where he was, unlit cigarette on his lips and not looking Steve’s way, a tense bundle in his shoulders.

 _Maybe he’s not that bad,_ Steve thinks, _if he can take away the nightmares for a while._

* * *

_He can’t stop_ it _, stop_ them _, he’s not strong enough-_

_His kids cry in pain and fear, tearteartear, he has to watch-_

_He beats at the dogs, the gorgon, trying to draw attention-_

_He cries out as the gorgon moves to slide his head into its gullet-_

_He wasn’t enough to save them-_

If he cuts his thighs and waits at the bottom of his empty pool for a monster that will never come, that’s his business.

If he wakes from a nightmare blabbering Italian and murmuring Hebrew prayers, that’s his business.

If he finds he’s broken all the stuff in his room while chasing a nightmare, that’s his business.

* * *

Going to get Nancy some white roses as congratulations for making the one-year mark with Jonathan ends up almost giving Steve a panic attack and he can’t look at lilies anymore because all he sees are flower-monster-maws and _teethteethteeth_. Dogs also end up giving him the same feeling and he _loved_ dogs.

“Is something wrong?” Nancy asks when he brings the flowers because they’re still friends no matter their relationship status. She could always tell what was going on with him, just like the kids.

“Bad day.” Which is so true. He wanted to pet a sweet little chihuahua before he found himself hyperventilating and needing to excuse himself before he made a scene and Steve _swears_ that he’ll burn the Mind Flayer by his own hands for making him fear the most wonderful animal in the world.

“Then come in.” Nancy held open the door. She went on before he could refuse, “Jonathan’s here too.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“He’s good at comforting people.” She dragged him in regardless. So now Steve was sitting on her bed with Jonathan as she puts the flowers away and they both feel awkward and Steve doesn’t wanna meet Jonathan’s eyes because he doesn’t know if they’re friends or not after Nancy dumped Steve for him and Steve can feel the creeping edges of an _incident_ about to cover him.

“I need to go.” he says, _Before I make a scene._

“Uh, okay.” Jonathan shrugs, not sure on whether he should keep Steve around or not, and Steve heads to the window. Leaves were falling in the dark and the moon was full and Steve’s reaching for the edge to pull it up and suddenly there’s a _demodog at the window_ and Steve’s shrieking and falling back and putting his hands up as if it would stop the monster-

 _Mawmawmaw teethteethteeth-_ Hands were on his shoulders and suddenly Steve felt grounded again.

“Steve! Steve!” Jonathan was kneeling beside him, hands on Steve’s shoulders, and suddenly Steve’s glad he came inside, “What happened?”

“Dog.” Steve pointed to the window, as if it explained everything. Jonathan frowned.

“Like a dog-dog or demodog?”

“Demo.” Jonathan understood. He took Steve into his arms and helped him back to bed as Nancy burst in, wondering who had screamed and then Jonathan was explaining to her and Steve was watching and suddenly he felt very hot, as if embarrassed.

 _I wanna be part of that._ he thought, then mentally smacked himself. Nancy had Jonathan and Jonathan had Nancy. He couldn’t get into the middle of that again. Nancy turned to him and shined that smile he loved so much and suddenly Steve felt like he couldn’t refuse whatever she said next.

“Stay the night.” said Nancy, and Steve didn’t leave. As uncomfortable as it was to sleep in the same room as them (Nancy insisting on having both boys on her bed to make sure Steve wasn’t scared and to make Jonathan not feel like he was intruding upon something), it was better than going out and facing his nightmares in the dark.

* * *

Steve isn’t Jewish. At least, that’s what his father says.

 _“If you can’t read simple English then how are you supposed to read the Torah?”_ Not to mention he’d never been circumcised. But his mother didn’t think that was right. Whenever she was home, she’d teach him Hebrew prayers besides his Italian.

 _“Everyone needs something to believe in, no matter what your father says.”_ she’d say, but she never stopped Father when he began getting onto Steve and called him an idiot. Steve also never did any of the Jewish holidays or traditions, never went to the synagogue, didn’t even celebrate said religion. Not because he disliked it, he just never had an interest.

But now he hoped the God he never believed in would hear his prayers of forgiveness and keep the nightmares at bay (but not the monsters because the monsters _always_ came _back_ ).

It only works half the time.

* * *

Steve took the bat everywhere with him. He never felt safe without it anymore and no one knew he kept it. At least, until Billy found him rummaging through his trunk for something he couldn’t remember and spotted it.

“Harrington, why do you have a _nailed bat_ in your car?”

“Protection.” A truth.

“From what?”

“Monsters.” Billy wouldn’t believe him.

“What kind of monsters?” Billy’s voice had changed, lowered, softened. Steve didn’t know why.

“Can’t tell you.” Another truth. He wasn’t allowed. Trying to explain while his mind was frayed wouldn’t help either. He needed sleep but sleep was bad but he still saw nightmares anyway so he should sleep but he was so _afraid_ and nothing would get him back to sleep except drugging him and he didn’t want to be drugged and forced to meet his worst nightmares-

“Harrington?” Billy was waving a hand in front of his face, “You okay?” Steve shut the trunk.

“ **Va via**.” he said, because his brain was functioning on less than 3 hours of sleep over the course of one week.

“What?” Billy frowned, “What did you say?” It almost looked like Billy thought Steve was making fun of him. Steve wished he was.

“ **Va via**.” he repeated, and made a ‘shoo’ing motion.

“Wait, are you speaking a different language?” Billy wasn’t going to leave and Steve hated him for it. Why couldn’t the bully let Steve go home and collapse in a sleep deprivation-induced coma in peace?

“ **Sì**.” Steve nodded.

“You know Italian?” Billy asked, somehow guessing correctly, because that’s all anyone wants to hear from Steve anymore. Even the kids ask for Italian lessons sometimes and he obliges but not with cursewords.

“ **Sì**.”

“Cool, but why are you speaking it now? And _why_ are you taking a language class if you already know a foreign language?”

 _For my GPA._ he wants to say but instead struggles to tramp down a yawn that comes out anyway. Billy’s face softens.

“You don’t look like you’ve gotten any sleep, Harrington. Need help getting home?”

“ **No**.” Steve says, because he really doesn’t but his argument isn’t helped when he tries to open the car door while forgetting it’s locked and when he finally remembers he barely has any strength to open it anyway because he hasn’t slept in 48 hours and needs help. Billy’s hand rests on the one trying to open the door and Steve feels his mouth run dry.

“Pretty Boy, you’re in no shape to drive home. I’ll take you.” Billy’s then tugging on Steve’s hand and tearing him away from the BMW.

“Loch Nora?” He asks because he’s pretty sure Billy has no idea where Steve lives.

“Yeah, Loch Nora. We’re going to your house and chances are, like all rich people, it’s in Loch Nora.” If Steve wasn’t so sleep-deprived, he’d know better than to stick his tongue out. Billy snorted at the childish gesture. Steve gave no resistance as he was led to the Camaro and Billy opened the door for him. The interior smelled like cigarette smoke and cologne and Steve scrunched his nose and wished Billy wasn’t being so charitable and just be a bully. Then the Camaro roared and Billy was driving them to Loch Nora and Steve tried not to fall asleep and give Billy an embarrassing story to share beyond what was going on right now. Billy didn’t speak to him during the whole drive and Steve gave him a glance. Finally they came up to his house and Billy went past it and Steve had to make him turn around so he wouldn’t end up at the wrong place and since there was no driveway they parked out front.

“I knew you were rich but this is still a bit much.” Billy says, whistling a little. Steve ignores him and stumbles out of the car, not wanting Billy to see the state he’s in, but then the Camaro turns off and Billy’s _following him_ and Steve’s had enough of the blond’s shit for one day.

“ **Lasciami solo**!” he snarls, fumbling for the keys in his pocket to get in the door.

“I don’t trust you to not faint on the stairs and hit your head or something, Pretty Boy.” said Billy. Steve mustered up the strength to glare at him.

“ **Perché ti interessi**? **Mi hai picchiato l'ultima volta**!”

“I don’t know what you’re saying but you’re stuck with me, Pretty Boy.” Briefly Steve wondered when ‘Harrington’ became ‘Pretty Boy’ but he was too tired to think about it. His sleep deprivation was hitting him hard now and the Italian spewing out of his mouth wasn’t helping matters. Finally Billy grabbed his keys and opened the door for him and Steve stumbles in, heading for the nearest surface to lay on, which would be the large living room couch that his parents had bought purely for aesthetic purposes but had a secret bed you could pull out that they didn’t know about and that Steve sometimes took advantage of, like right now. All it took was a small kick to one of the corners and suddenly the bed was spread out before him and Steve fell on it with a sigh.

“You just gonna sleep there?” Steve gave him a finger. Billy sighed and suddenly the bed dipped and Steve felt an arm curl around him, “You’ll get cold, Pretty Boy.” Steve closed his eyes, too tired to argue or think about a blanket and felt his hand close over Billy’s, the warm presence throwing him deeper into dreamland.

And for the first time in two years, Steve feels _safe_.

* * *

Steve puts Billy on a high pedestal after that. Getting along used to be apples and oranges but now Billy keeps the nightmares away and Steve just wants to kidnap him from his own home so Steve doesn’t have to sleep alone anymore. They spend more time together and Billy’s not so bad anymore even though he hasn’t slept over since and that’s all Steve can ask for because he doesn’t know if the others really understand what he’s going through and Billy makes him feel special and _he doesn’t know why_.

Steve’s tapping the bat gently against his leg as he walks, doing his own patrol, thinking about why liking Billy feels similar to when he liked Nancy before he fell for her and he knows that boys like girls and girls like boys and they can’t like the same gender because that’s wrong and _why_ is he thinking about that right now while he’s looking for stragglers from the closing of the Gate? The forest around his property leaves him with goosebumps ever since what happened with Barb and so he sometimes patrols here to keep things calm and when he doesn’t want sleep because the nightmares are too much and tonight is no different except his thoughts aren’t here and on _BillyNancyJonathan_ and Steve feels like he doesn’t know himself anymore.

Steve wraps a hand around his torso, remembering Billy’s strange kindness and remembers seeing Jonathan comforting Nancy and he wishes he had understood at the time and hadn’t called her a slut and then maybe they’d still be together and maybe they could even have Jonathan with them but _nonono that’s not right_. Jonathan’s not right Billy’s not right Nancy’s right but he wants all three and he can’t because he’s not gay because he likes girls but then why does he look at guys so much?

 _Boyboyboy girlgirlgirl bothboygirl fuck-_ Steve bites his tongue. He _can’t_ like both, that’s not _possible_. He leans against a tree and puts his head in a hand as he quarrels with himself. He can tell that Will doesn’t like girls and that’s okay but he hasn’t said if he likes boys instead because he’ll get hurt or _killed_ because of who he likes and Steve’s similar but not because he likes both boys and girls and it’s a _mindfuck_ and as much as he’s in danger so is Billy and Billy doesn’t have the luxury of no parents so then why did he do something so gay? _Why did he care_?

But suddenly Steve’s falling backwards and then the tree’s sealing up and there’s ash in the air and _fuck no he’s in the Upside Down_ but he still has his bat and he’ll fight his way back to his kids and Nancy and Jonathan and Hopper and Joyce and Billy because _they need him and he needs them_. Then he notices screeches in the distance and knows that the monsters are coming and he readies his bat.

All Steve can think is _destroydestroydestroy_ and _homehomehome_.

* * *

Dustin wakes to the news on a Tuesday morning. _‘Steve Harrington, 19, found dead from a drug overdose.’_ A mailman went to the backyard, looking for someone to sign the package going to the Harringtons, and found the body in the empty pool. The funeral is planned for Saturday. Dustin wants to be sick.

“He’s dead, Dustin.” says Mike, who was the first to turn on Steve apparently. Dustin ignores him in favor of holding the Farrah Fawcett can Steve gave him for the Snow Ball.

“Let him be.” advises Lucas, holding hands with Max, and all of them and Will and El and Nancy and Jonathan are all grieving and Dustin doesn’t blame them but he can’t understand that Steve’s dead. He doesn’t want to but he’s there at the funeral because why wouldn’t he be? Steve is his brother-friend and Dustin has to be here because people think he’s dead just like what happened with Will and Dustin hates that everyone believes Steve’s dead because he’s _not_.

Dustin doesn’t cry because he knows that Steve’s not dead. Steve isn’t the kind of guy to die easily. He has the kids to think about, to protect. Dustin knows he’s not the only one that believes this. As the funeral winds down, he goes looking for Billy Hargrove.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'll continue this thing because I like where it ends but if you guys have thoughts on how it ends or what happens next, please let me know because I'd love to hear your thoughts! And if you guy would like to write your own continuations and post them, go ahead!
> 
> Italian Translations (by Google Translate):
> 
> la felicità della morte = Death’s Happiness  
> Va via. = Go away.  
> Lasciami solo! = Leave me alone!  
> Perché ti interessi? Mi hai picchiato l'ultima volta! = Why do you care? You beat me up last time!


End file.
